Time's Ills
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: The Department of Temporal Investigations made sure no one from the present damaged the past. But they didn't consider the danger someone returning from the past could pose in the present.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Dr Bashir are not to be regarded as authoritative.

The Tresselian and Jeburite races and the planet Idimion Twelve are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to the names of canon Star Trek races/planets is unintentional. Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Paramount and Viacom; all original characters and story © 2015 FemaleChauvinist.

 _Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

 **A/N: "Season" given for timing reference only; see my profile for the alternate history used in this story. According to my timeline, this story takes place soon after Bashir's enhancements are discovered. Jadzia now believes that he truly does love her, and so is beginning to respond to his advances. Barbie**

 _Season Six_

 **Prologue**

A small, secret smile played at Tairvaul's lips as he answered the questions the Department of Temporal Investigations officer put to him; amusement at the endless grilling he believed to be unnecessary.

The Department of Temporal Investigations existed on the premise that it was of paramount importance that those who found themselves in the past do nothing to change the timeline. Tairvaul believed that whole premise to be wrong; believing instead in what he called the integrity of time — that once something had happened, it _couldn't_ be changed. He was willing to admit that if someone went into the past, he could affect events around him, but maintained that had the time-traveler researched those events carefully enough before going into the past, he would have seen his own actions recorded "before" he did them. If someone went into the past with the intention of changing history, Tairvaul believed he would find himself thwarted at every turn, until he was forced to watch it play out as it always had.

He wondered also why it was felt that, assuming history _could_ be changed, the way it had originally happened was the _right_ way and mustn't be tampered with. He could see how it would be wrong to go into the past and start a war; what he could never understand was that it was deemed just as wrong to go into the past and prevent one. If he did believe history could be changed, he had often thought it would be a man's duty to go into the past and undo atrocities that had been committed. But if the original timeline really was such a sacred thing as they made out, then he thought that was all the more reason to believe it could take care of itself.

But what really made Tairvaul secretly laugh at the Department of Temporal Investigations was the fact that if time could be and had been changed, only the one who had been in the past at the time could ever possibly know it. Everyone else would be "rewritten" along with the events, and have no memory of the way things had gone "before."

But he knew to attempt to make them see his point of view now would only make them believe he had indeed altered some momentous event in history, and it was never a good idea to suggest to an official that his job was completely unnecessary. So he answered their questions as patiently as possible, in the end satisfying them that their precious timeline was still intact.

But unknown to any of them, the effects of his trip through time were soon to engulf an entire planet.

 **First chapter coming next week!**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	2. Epidemic

**Chapter One: Epidemic**

 _Captain's log, stardate 55760.5_

 _The planet Idimion Twelve, a small planet five lightyears from Deep Space Nine colonized jointly by Tresselians and Earth humans, is in the grip of a worldwide epidemic. The disease, believed to be of alien origin, kills many of its victims and leaves others blind; other long-term effects are unknown. So far, only Terrans seem to be affected. Idimion Twelve is now under quarantine, and all travel to the planet has been banned. As a result, the space station has seen an influx of stranded travelers. Starfleet Medical is working around the clock to find a cure, and my chief medical officer has asked to be allowed to go and join the relief effort…_

"No," Sisko said quietly.

"But, sir, they need all the help they can get."

"You're Earth human, Julian; even as a doctor you'd be barred from entering — and with good reason, unless you have immunities the rest of us don't."

Julian flushed at the veiled reference to his enhancements. "No, but I still think —"

Sisko sighed. "One doctor isn't going to make that much difference, even with your particular…skills, and I need you here. With so many extra people on the station, we need our chief medical officer…especially if the virus shows up here. Please attend to your duties here and leave this crisis to Starfleet Medical."

Bashir's jaw twitched. "Is that an order, _sir_?"

"Yes."

Julian let out a deep breath of defeat. "Permission to request case files and work on research?" he asked more calmly.

"Granted," Sisko said quietly, admiring the doctor's dedication and unable to deny him this one request. And he _was_ enhanced; maybe it wasn't as arrogant as it had always seemed for him to think he could see something everyone else had missed. "But only when you're off duty, and no specimens — I don't care how well sealed they are; I can't risk it."

"Agreed," Bashir said instantly. "Thank you, sir."

Sisko dropped his head into his hands. "I hope you can find a cure, Julian. I truly hope you can."

 **Next chapter coming next week! (On Thursday, since the library will be closed Wednesday for Veterans' Day)**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	3. Class 1 Emergency

**Chapter Two: Class 1 Emergency**

"Emory, while you're doing your business on the station, I want to take Seffie to the doctor here," Harriet Amberson told her husband.

Emory appeared startled. "She just has a cold, doesn't she? That's not bad enough for a doctor."

"No…if it _is_ a cold. All these strange spaceports we go to, she could have picked up anything. Anyway, this is the nearest we'll be to a Terran doctor for two weeks, so I'd rather get her checked out and be sure."

"Whatever you say," Emory agreed. "She's been pretty tired; want me to carry her?"

"If you don't mind putting off your business," Harriet agreed.

"Sarnon can handle the unloading," Emory assured her. "Come on."

The sick girl lay in her bunk, feverish and lethargic. "Seffie, honey?" Emory said softly, his tone of voice telling Harriet that he, too, was more worried about their daughter than he had let on. "We're taking you down to the doctor; he'll make you feel better."

Seffie coughed and laid her head on her father's shoulder without seeming to hear his words.

Emory had been on Deep Space Nine several times before, and found his way to the infirmary without need to ask directions. "Doctor?"

Dr Bashir looked up from the datapadd he was discussing with a nurse. "Emory Amberson," he recognized him instantly. "How's the foot?"

"Good as new; not even a limp," Emory assured him. The last time he had been in Bashir's infirmary, he had broken several bones in his foot when a crate he was unloading fell on it. "It's my daughter this time; she hasn't been feeling well the past few days. It's probably just a bad cold, but Harriet thought we'd better get her checked before going out into the wilds of nowhere."

"That's wise," Bashir agreed. "Bring her in here; how long did you say she'd been ill?"

"A couple days," Harriet responded. As she listed the girl's symptoms, alarm bells began ringing in Bashir's mind.

He bent over Seffie to examine her, and his enhanced eyes picked out the faintest beginning of a rash on her face. "Have you been anywhere near Idimion Twelve recently?" he asked sharply, pressing a device against Seffie's wrist to run a blood test and hoping against hope that even his senses and instincts were wrong this time.

"Yes…" Emory said slowly. "We delivered a shipment there two…maybe three weeks ago."

"I was afraid of that," Bashir said grimly. He looked at the results of the blood test as if by staring hard enough, he could will them to change. "Apparently you haven't heard…Idimion Twelve is currently in the grip of an epidemic; evidently you visited just days before they imposed the quarantine."

Harriet's face paled. "You mean Seffie…?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am."

"But you can treat it, surely," Emory whispered.

A muscle twitched in Bashir's jaw. "I'll do all I can," he promised, "and Starfleet Medical is working to find a cure. But it's very virulent, and I'm afraid you'll have to be prepared for the worst."

Harriet let out a moaning cry, and Emory wrapped his arms around her. "Can we — stay with her, Doctor?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to," Bashir said flatly. "Both of you are under strict quarantine; as soon as I leave I'm putting a forcefield up to keep you in the room."

Emory flushed, and Bashir managed a tight smile. "Standard quarantine procedure; not to imply that I don't trust you. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

 **oOo**

The Jeburite nurse looked up as Bashir strode out of the examination room, his expression grim. "What is it, Doctor?" she exclaimed in alarm.

"Idimion Twelve," Bashir replied grimly, his voice muffled as he pulled off his overshirt. "I have her and her family under strict quarantine; I don't want any Terrans tending her. Anyone who _does_ tend her has to decontaminate immediately afterward."

The harshness of his eyes kept the nurse from asking if he intended to be an exception to his own "no-Terrans" rule. She looked away politely as he stripped down to his underwear before stepping into the decontamination shower.

Moments later, his eyes still stinging from the spray, he was pulling a fresh uniform from the replicator and putting it on at almost inhuman speeds.

"Doctor, do you have a prescription for the girl?" the nurse asked.

"I'll get to that in a minute," Bashir called over his shoulder as he hurried to his office. "I have to talk to Sisko before this thing spreads through the whole station." He slid into the chair behind his desk, hitting the communicator button almost in the same moment. "Bashir to Captain Sisko."

"Sisko here; what's wrong?"

"We have a class 1 medical emergency."

"You mean —"

"Yes. Idimion Twelve."

"Are you — _sure_ , Julian?"

"Captain, I've spent the last week studying it," Bashir said harshly. "I know it forward and backward — _I'm sure_." Even as he spoke, he knew the captain hadn't been doubting him but merely hoping there was some faint chance he was wrong.

"Recommendations?"

"Completely quarantine of the victim's ship. All passengers, crew, and cargo to be beamed back on board immediately. Anyone who came in contact with anyone or anything from that ship to be decontaminated immediately, and to report to the infirmary at the slightest sign of illness."

"What about full quarantine of the station?" Sisko questioned after relaying Bashir's orders to Dax; in the background he heard her beginning the beam-out.

"It may be premature for that, but it's your call. Any departing vessels should require medical clearance to leave, and I would suggest you question arriving vessels about any illness that may be on board, particularly if they've been near Idimion Twelve in the past month." His tone held a suggestion of reproof, and Sisko grimaced as he realized he should have been questioning incoming vessels the whole time.

"Julian, we've beamed the _Starfire_ 's passengers and crew back on board, but most of them are non-Terrans; isn't it true the epidemic only affects Terrans?"

"Out of Terrans and Tresselians," Bashir said tightly. "We have no evidence for the vast majority of races, and even a race that's immune could be a carrier."

"Julian…you've been exposed, haven't you?"

"Yes," Bashir said shortly. "But I'm a doctor; I've been exposed to more infectious diseases than I care to count, and nothing's killed me yet."

 **Next chapter coming next week!**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	4. Ancient and Exotic

**Chapter Three: Ancient and Exotic**

"Incoming shuttle, this is Captain Benjamin Sisko of the space station Deep Space Nine; please identify yourself and state your destination," the hail reached Tairvaul mere moments after the wormhole closed behind his shuttle.

"Tairvaul Meridack, returning to Idimion Twelve," he responded, wondering at the increased security.

"Idimion Twelve is in quarantine," the captain informed him. "No space traffic is being allowed through."

"Quarantine?" Tairvaul asked blankly. "The whole _planet_?"

"Yes. You may dock at the station until such time as the quarantine is lifted."

"Idimion Twelve is my home — I want to know what's happening there!"

"It's an alien virus; our doctor could give you more information than I can. When did you leave there?"

"Stardate 55758.4."

"That's just within the quarantine period; I'm afraid you'll have to beam to sickbay immediately after docking and have the doctor clear you before you can have free access to the station."

"Of course; I'll cooperate fully," Tairvaul agreed, attempting to ignore the cold knot in his stomach. Surely if he had been exposed he would be sick by now… The captain had said he was just within the quarantine period; of course the doctor would want to err on the side of caution to make sure the disease wasn't brought to the station. _If you have to worry,_ he told himself firmly, _worry about Mother back on Idimion Twelve._

 **oOo**

Tairvaul materialized in a private examining room of the Deep Space Nine infirmary.

"Sorry to greet you like this; I'm Dr Julian Bashir." The doctor's face appeared haggard, with dark shadows under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in a week. Tairvaul wondered briefly why an epidemic on a planet nearly a day's journey away was affecting him so badly; was it possible it had spread to the station and they were keeping it quiet to avoid a panic?

He nodded. "Tairvaul Meridack. The captain said you could tell me more about this disease than he could…"

The doctor gestured Tairvaul toward the diagnostic bed. "It's a viral infection, believed to be of alien origin. As a result, those infected seem to have few defenses against it," he explained as he began running the scan.

"I'm worried about my mother," Tairvaul said quietly. "She's on Idimion Twelve; is there any way you can find out…?"

Dr Bashir glanced sharply at Tairvaul's features, obviously non-Terran to his professional eye. "She's Tresselian; you probably don't have anything to worry about. It's only affected Terrans so far."

Tairvaul breathed a sigh of relief, then suddenly stiffened. "Doctor, I'm half Terran; does that mean I could be affected?"

Bashir looked up from the readings with interest. "Possibly," he admitted, "though if you had been exposed nearly a Bajoran month ago, you would most likely be showing symptoms by now. Did you encounter anyone who was ill before you left?"

"I visited my doctor a few days before; I suppose there were probably a few sick patients in the waiting room. But he's Tresselian; I doubt they would have been Terran."

"We're still trying to pinpoint when and where the disease originated," Bashir explained; "if we knew what species it came from, we could work with their medical board to develop a cure."

He frowned at the blood test results for a moment, puzzled by a certain antibody. But surely it was irrelevant… "You're clear," he told Tairvaul finally. "If you recall seeing any sick Terrans before you left, even in passing, please let me know; we need all the information we can get."

"Sure, Doctor. What would the symptoms have been?"

"The most obvious to a passing observer would be a cough and fever; red eyes and a sensitivity to light. A rash develops a few days later, but by then I would hope the patient would be home in bed."

Tairvaul blinked. "That's not some alien virus, Doctor," he said without thinking; "that's measles."

Dr Bashir spun back toward him. " _What_?"

Tairvaul flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to correct you; I'm sure you know a lot more about it than I do. It just…sounds the same, that's all."

"What do you know about measles?" Bashir asked sharply. He recognized the name himself from an ancient medical textbook he had found in an antique shop and purchased on a whim; it was an old Terran illness that had been stamped out centuries ago, and it was nearly impossible that a layperson would be familiar with it and its symptoms.

Tairvaul shook himself, not understanding the doctor's intense interest. "Oh…I went back in time not long ago; to Earth. There was a little girl there who had measles, and all the symptoms…are…the same." He faltered to a stop as he felt Bashir's steady gaze on him and slowly grasped the realization the doctor had already come to. "Dear God," he breathed. "I brought it back with me, didn't I? And I never even realized…"

"Did you get sick at all?" Bashir questioned tersely.

"Not with those symptoms," Tairvaul said slowly.

"You're half Tresselian; they may not be the same. You were sick, then?"

"I had three days of violent sneezing fits and a low-grade fever," Tairvaul answered. "My doctor was completely mystified, but it resolved on its own and I went off planet as scheduled."

"With the difference in symptoms, no one would even think to trace it to you," Bashir murmured.

"If the first human infected even remembered meeting me," Tairvaul added. "It was probably a passing stranger; my only direct contact while I was sick was with Tresselians." He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Dear God…" he breathed again. "A whole planet…and _I_ infected them."

Disregarding him for a moment, Bashir tapped his combadge. "Bashir to Ops."

"Ops here," came Jadzia's voice.

"Dax, patch me through to Starfleet Medical, _now_."

"Right away," she replied instantly.

Bashir drummed his fingers on a piece of medical equipment as he waited for the call to go through. How had he managed to miss the diagnosis himself? That every other doctor had failed to recognize it, he could well believe. But he had read that old medical text, and he had a photographic memory; _he_ should have seen it. Probably would have, if he hadn't been misled by the assumption that the virus was of alien origin. But surely that was no excuse for him; what was the good of being enhanced if he couldn't make connections no one else saw, assumptions be hanged? But instead it had taken a non-medical Tresselian to point out the obvious…

His combadge beeped, and he immediately tapped it. "Bashir."

"I have Captain Abraham Steinsen from Starfleet Medical; I'm patching him through."

"Thank you."

"Dr Bashir? What's this about?" the captain asked a little irritably.

"The epidemic on Idimion twelve isn't some exotic alien virus; it's old-fashioned Earth measles," Bashir said bluntly.

"Measles?" Captain Steinsen asked blankly.

"You've heard of it?"

"Vaguely…you might as well tell me it was the Black Plague; measles was stamped out centuries ago."

"Well, someone went into the past and unintentionally brought it back," Bashir said grimly.

"You have proof of that?"

"He's sitting in front of me; told me himself."

Tairvaul winced, but Bashir still seemed to be paying no attention to him.

"Then he's immune — you can create an antidote from his blood?"

"I hope so, sir, but he's half Tresselian; the antibodies may not be compatible."

"Understood. Keep us informed of your progress."

"I will," Bashir promised. "And I want a memo sent to the Department of Temporal Investigations — they found him innocent of tampering with timelines, but didn't even think to ask him if he was exposed to any communicable diseases. You'd think this was the one timeline they didn't care about preserving; there's not supposed to be measles in the twenty-fourth century, but here it is. Bashir out."

 **Next chapter coming next week!**

 **A/N: I lost something in that last paragraph between the time I thought it out and the time I wrote it; originally I couldn't write it without Bashir using the word** ** _damn_** **, and at the end Tairvaul thought he would have appreciated having an old-fashioned phone to slam down! And for once I didn't put off writing down what I had thought out…I'm not sure if it makes it more annoying or less that for once it's not my own fault I forgot it. Barbie**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	5. Last Hope

**Chapter Four: Last Hope**

"It's my fault as much as theirs," Tairvaul groaned, his face still buried in his hands. "I knew I'd been exposed. But I was sure no one got measles anymore; it never occurred to me that could change."

"Why should it?" Bashir dismissed. "You're not a doctor, and it's not your job to worry about the effects of time travel, aside from the usual precautions."

"The Department of Temporal Investigations," Tairvaul whispered in dawning horror. "Doctor, at least half of them are human — if they took it back to Earth with them —"

"We would have heard something by now."

"Unless it's being covered up to prevent panic…?"

Bashir shook his head. "It would be on an even wider scale than Idimion Twelve; you don't keep something like that quiet. If the Temporal officers got sick at all, I think probably it was confined to that one ship. The incubation period was ten to fourteen Earth-days, correct?"

"Yeah; I think the doctor said about two weeks."

"We would have heard something," Bashir said again; Tairvaul wondered if he was trying to convince himself as well.

"But I would have been contagious," Tairvaul insisted.

"With the Tresselian aspects of your physiology, maybe not," Bashir said almost absently. "I'll need some of your blood to try to make a vaccine from the antibodies."

"Of course; take as much as you need," Tairvaul answered instantly, aware that the doctor hadn't actually been asking permission. "But, Doctor, do you mind if I ask one more question?"

Bashir sighed as he began setting up the equipment for taking the blood. "Go ahead."

"It's just…if it's really measles, why is it so dangerous? Back on Earth, it was contagious, sure, but most people recovered. I'm not a doctor; maybe I got it wrong and it's not measles at all."

Bashir shook his head. "The timing's too coincidental for you to be wrong, and the symptoms _do_ match — even the ones only a doctor would notice. I think there's two possible reasons for the increased mortality rate. One, when a disease is fairly common, the population builds up a basic immunity to it. A mother who had the disease as a child is immune to it, and will pass some of those antibodies to her children. They'll decrease during the first year after birth, and will never be enough for full immunity, but they may be enough to ease the severity of the disease. And two, in the centuries since measles was last seen, human DNA has undergone slight changes, possibly making humans more susceptible now. And I suppose we can't discount the possibility that in adapting to your body, the disease became more virulent."

Tairvaul winced. "It all comes back to me, doesn't it?" he groaned.

Bashir offered him a tight smile, holding up the vial of blood. "Hopefully, the cure will come back to you as well."

 **oOo**

"Julian, you look terrible," Sisko said flatly as Bashir entered Ops. "How long has it been since you slept?"

Bashir gave him a tight smile that was more a grimace. "How long has the epidemic been going on?"

"That's what I thought."

"I need less sleep than most Terrans," Bashir dismissed.

"Less isn't the same as none," Sisko said sternly, for once showing no discomfort at Bashir's veiled reference to his enhancements.

"I'm not here to discuss my insomnia," Bashir said with a touch of impatience. "I tried creating a vaccine from the antibodies in Tairvaul's blood, but his physiology is too different. I could create a vaccine from scratch, but that would take longer than I'd prefer."

Sisko stared at him for a moment, wondering if he realized how arrogant he sounded to claim to be able to create a vaccine that had eluded an entire Starfleet Medical research team. "What did you have in mind, then?" he questioned.

"There was a vaccine developed for it at one time; I suggest going back to get a sample to replicate," Bashir said quietly.

"Time-travel's not that easy, Julian," Jadzia objected.

"Tairvaul seems to think he can do it," Bashir told her. "He offered to take me in his ship."

Sisko grunted in the back of his throat. "Have you forgotten how far we are from Earth, Julian? It would take two weeks at the earliest to get there and back again."

"No, I haven't forgotten. But if we go back to the past, travel to Earth, then come back before returning to the present time, we'll get back about the same time we left, admittedly having aged some."

"Or…" Dax murmured thoughtfully. "Space and time are linked; I would have to talk to Tairvaul, but we might be able to get a lot closer to Earth when we slingshot back in time."

Bashir raised an eyebrow at her apparent assumption that she was coming as well.

"Be that as it may, you could create a vaccine from scratch ten times over before you'll get the Department of Temporal Investigations to give you permission."

"I'm not asking them for permission," Bashir said steadily; "I'm asking you."

"Ah. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, is that it?"

Bashir remained silent, and Sisko sighed. "Dax, how long will it take you and Tairvaul to work out the details?"

"Assuming we _can_ …ten hours, give or take."

"All right. Julian, you have my permission, on one condition — you are to report immediately to your quarters and sleep for ten hours."

"But, sir —"

"That was an order, Lieutenant. I won't have you collapsing from exhaustion or making some fatal error in judgment."

A muscle twitched in Bashir's jaw. "I…don't think I _can_ , sir," he said softly. Several times over the past weeks, he had laid his head on his desk, too weary to go on. But if he dozed at all, it was only to dream of Seffie, dying in spite of the comfort measures that were all he could offer her.

Sisko snorted softly. "You're a _doctor_ , Julian; I'm sure you can give yourself something to help you sleep. Now go."

"Yes, Captain," Bashir gave in. Turning, he made his way to the habitat ring.

By the time he reached his quarters, he realized there was only one soporific he needed. Grabbing the battered bear off the shelf, he collapsed fully clothed onto his bunk. His last thought before falling asleep was that there was another hole in Kukalaka's seam, and he would need to perform "surgery" before any stuffing came out…

 **Next chapter coming next week!**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	6. Slingshot Through Time

**Chapter Five: Slingshot Through Time**

Fully refreshed, Bashir joined Dax and Tairvaul the next day on Tairvaul's ship _Imagination_. He realized now that the captain had been right; he had needed the sleep to restore his usual optimism.

"You usually fly this ship singlehanded?" Dax questioned, slightly surprised.

Tairvaul grimaced. "No, not usually. My second officer went and abandoned me in the Gamma quadrant."

"Not human, I trust?" Bashir asked tensely.

"No, Tresselian," Tairvaul assured him.

"There aren't many humans in the Gamma quadrant to infect, anyway," Dax pointed out.

"All it would take is one heading back to Earth or somewhere," Bashir said grimly.

Dax nodded briefly in acknowledgement, then turned back to Tairvaul. "Will you need my help, then?" she questioned.

"Enough systems are automated that I usually don't have a problem piloting solo, but if you don't mind taking the copilot's seat, Lieutenant…"

"Of course," Dax agreed.

"Better strap yourself in, Doctor," Tairvaul warned. "The inertial dampers are going to be pretty strained for a slingshot of this magnitude."

Bashir left Tairvaul and Dax to their last-minute calculations, following their logic effortlessly but unable to draw some of the conclusions they seemed to see as a matter of course. An enhanced brain didn't automatically make him equally good at everything, he mused, even as he couldn't ask Tairvaul's shipboard computers for a diagnostic scan, though they had the same computing power as the ones in his infirmary.

He dismissed the thought as he tightened the straps, leaning back and closing his eyes in anticipation of the forces.

"Slingshot in ten…nine…eight…" Tairvaul's voice began counting down steadily from the bridge. As he reached zero, Bashir felt the increased pressure instantly, not merely the gravity of acceleration, but also the pressure of time. The forces increased steadily, almost more than his body could stand; he was sure he was about to black out when the pressure finally began easing.

He drew a deep breath, a finger on his own pulse, trying to gauge whether he felt steady enough to get up and check on the others.

"All right back there?" Tairvaul called over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Bashir answered, his voice surprisingly rough. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Dax?"

Dax smiled indulgently. "I'm fine, Julian," she assured him. "Of the three of us here, I think that would have been hardest on Earth humans."

Bashir grimaced, rubbing a hand over his aching forehead. "Thanks for the warning." Unfastening the straps, he slowly got to his feet and moved unsteadily to the front, leaning heavily on the back of Jadzia's chair. "How close are we?"

"About a day's journey from Earth, at the fastest I can reasonably push the ship," Tairvaul answered.

"And time-wise?"

"The star positions indicate we're within ten years of our target date, which is as close as I expected to be."

Jadzia glanced back and shook her head as she saw his white face. "Julian, we need to talk about how we're going to get the vaccine, but not until you take something for whatever effects you're still feeling."

"I'm all right," he said shortly.

Jadzia sighed. "If Tairvaul or I looked that bad, you'd already have given us a hypospray. I do rank you, Julian; don't make me turn it into an order."

"Honestly, Dax, the headache's passing on its own; it will be gone completely in five minutes."

"And you'll take something then if it's not?"

"Yes."

"I don't need any help just now; why don't you two go on into the back to discuss plans," Tairvaul suggested.

"All right," Dax agreed. She slid out of her seat, and Julian stepped aside to allow her to precede him.

She sat on one of the low bunks, and Julian eased himself down beside her, a little more dizzy than he would admit; he resisted the urge to lean against the bulkhead. He supposed there was something about every doctor that made them hate to admit they might need treatment themselves…

"So, any plans?" he questioned, trying to speak normally as he found Jadzia eyeing him with concern.

She drew a deep breath. "Yes, actually. You and I can beam down near a free health clinic."

Bashir didn't question how they would discover the location of such a clinic; maybe it came under Jadzia's interest in xenoarcheology, and he also suspected Tairvaul had been to the past more times than he had admitted.

"And do what; just ask for some spare vaccine?" he asked skeptically.

"In a manner of speaking," Jadzia said slowly.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of this," Bashir murmured, suddenly guessing where she was heading.

"You claim to have missed your measles shot and ask to be vaccinated," Dax confirmed in a low voice. "Then you find a way to take a vial of the vaccine — I assume you're fast enough to do it unnoticed?"

Bashir grimaced. "Yes, but Jadzia, surely I can get hold of it without submitting to a barbaric injection."

"A doctor, and afraid of needles," Dax scoffed.

"I am not afraid of needles," Bashir insisted. "I just don't appreciate being unnecessarily stuck by them any more than anyone else."

" _Is_ it unnecessary, Julian?" Jadzia whispered. "You were exposed…"

"Well, yes; I was planning on giving myself the vaccine as soon as I had it adopted for hypospray."

Dax stared at him steadily without speaking, and Bashir thought he saw a hint of fear in the back of her eyes. " _That's_ why you wanted to slingshot to Earth," he realized. "Because the time to _travel_ there is longer than the incubation period of the disease." He grinned. "Imagine that; you do care."

Dax turned away. "Of…course I do; you're the best doctor the station has."

Julian put his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her toward him again. "Jadzia, I'm fine," he assured her softly; not with his usual physician's bravado. "I took a decontamination shower within minutes of realizing what I was dealing with, and I've been testing my blood; there's no sign I've been infected." He felt her relax slightly under his touch, and chose not to tell her that he had been more concerned about whether he could pass the disease to others than the possibility of becoming ill with it himself.

"You're sure? Your headache…"

"Is consistent with the effect of space travel, and isn't one of the typical early signs of measles. But I'll get the shot if it means that much to you," he added, wincing theatrically.

"It…seems most prudent," Jadzia said almost stiffly, shrugging free of his hands.

"Uh-huh."

Jadzia got hurriedly to her feet. "I'd — better go see if Tairvaul needs me."

 **oOo**

Dax and Bashir had brought civilian clothes; while the style was bound to be a little off, they would definitely draw less attention than Starfleet uniforms.

"Well?" Dax questioned, stepping out of the small enclosed area wearing a sweater and jeans.

Bashir looked her up and down, and she found herself unaccountably flushing. "Loosen your hair," he suggested. "Your spots will probably pass as tattoos or some kind of odd birthmark, but no sense showing more of them than necessary. I really should go down alone."

Dax chose not to respond to that, pulling the tie from her hair and shaking the dark waves free. "Better?"

For a moment, Bashir found himself unable to say anything as his hand reached out almost of its own accord to run through the soft silkiness. "Beautiful," he murmured almost to himself.

Dax blushed again, but batted him away. "Keep your hands to yourself, Doctor," she scolded lightly.

Bashir grinned to cover his embarrassment, shrugging unrepentedly. "Aw, you like it."

Dax turned away without denying it. "We don't have time for this," she reminded him. "Tairvaul's waiting to beam us down."

"Seriously, though, Dax, I really think I should go alone," Bashir insisted as he followed her to the tiny transporter.

Dax whirled. "Chauvinist," she accused him hotly.

Bashir winced. "No, believe me, I'd happily let _you_ take the shot if I could. But that's just it; I'm human, so I'm less likely to stand out."

"You just want to avoid getting that shot without me there to see that you do. You can stop arguing, Julian; I'm coming if I have to pull rank to do it."

Bashir shook his head. "You don't rank me by all that much," he muttered. "Fine, but don't blame me if an alien sighting messes up the timeline."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a worrier, Julian? Except for the spots, I look human, and you said yourself they could pass as tattoos or birthmarks."

"You two want to stop debating long enough to beam down?" Tairvaul asked mildly. "If it comes to that, _I've_ passed as human; people overlook minor differences when they don't have a category for them. Who's going first?"

Julian took a step back and half bowed, extending a hand for Jadzia to take her place on the transporter pad.

"Real chivalrous, sending a lady first into unknown danger," she muttered sarcastically, but stepped onto the pad without hesitation.

 **Next chapter coming next week!**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	7. Dr Pickpocket

Last chapter:

 _Julian took a step back and half bowed, extending a hand for Jadzia to take her place on the transporter pad._

" _Real chivalrous, sending a lady first into unknown danger," she muttered sarcastically, but stepped onto the pad without hesitation._

 **Chapter Six: Dr Pickpocket**

"How much _danger_ can there be out in the country, Dax?" Julian asked as he materialized beside her.

Jadzia laughed. "Not enough for you to play the hero, anyway," she teased.

"I'll feel like enough of hero if I can get that vaccine," Bashir said soberly.

Jadzia reached out and squeezed his hand, knowing he spoke not out of a desire for recognition but a doctor's longing to save his patients. "Let's go get it, then," she said softly. She turned toward the road a short distance away, making no effort to pull her hand from his.

"What country is this, anyway?" Bashir asked, looking around as they reached the road.

Jadzia grinned. "England, of course; your accent may as well blend in as much as possible, though I'm sure you've picked up an 'alien' flavor since living on the station."

Julian cocked his head, considering. "Wouldn't that 'alien flavor' be less noticeable in America, where they can't tell the difference between a London accent and a Yorkshire one?"

"Maybe," Jadzia admitted. "But I've heard you mimicking accents with O'Brien; you should be able to do a decent British accent. There were other reasons for choosing England, as well."

Julian shrugged. "As long as you're sure. Do you know where the medical facility is?"

"We should be a couple miles from the clinic," she replied; "I hope you don't mind the walk."

Julian smiled, lacing his fingers through hers. "It's a beautiful day for a stroll with you." He glanced sideways at her, and she again blushed unaccountably, guessing to what he meant the world _beautiful_ to really apply. Still, she did not pull away.

As they walked, the country lane turned into a residential street, and then gave way to a moderate-sized village. Bashir smiled and nodded in response to greetings offered by passersby, following Dax's lead to the little free medical clinic.

He took the form he was given to fill out and sat beside Dax in the shiny, plastic-covered chairs, forcing himself to ignore the coughing of the child across the room; all his medical instincts wanted to give the boy an immediate breathing treatment and the single dose of antibiotics that would clear up the infection much faster than whatever primitive methods they used here… He drew a deep breath, relieved when a nurse called the boy and his mother back to an exam room.

Dax picked up one of the magazines, idly flipping through it as Bashir filled out the form, the pen feeling oddly out of place in his hand. He knew how to write, of course, but rarely had call to do more than scribble his signature on datapadds, and that was with a computer stylus; the pressure required to use a real ink pen was all wrong…and he suspected this one was low on ink.

Glancing at the calendar behind the receptionist's desk, he subtracted his age from the current year and wrote the result as his birthdate. For his address, he used the actual address of his parents' house in England, hoping it had actually existed in this time, or at least that no one would realize it didn't.

He frowned at the next question, leaning toward Dax. "Dax," he hissed, "how many digits in a phone number?"

Dax's eye fell on an advertisement in her magazine, where large letters urged the reader to "Call Now!" Pressing her thumb next to the number given, she turned it slightly in Bashir's direction.

"Thanks," he murmured, writing down the first numerals he thought of, and only then realizing that they were his and Dax's Starfleet ID numbers.

However Tairvaul and Dax had found this clinic, they had done their research well; whatever system of socialized medicine was in place, while it could never be best as long as it was subject to human greed and selfishness, at least meant that Bashir wasn't asked for any kind of insurance number that had to be cleared before he could be seen, and he wouldn't have to pay with old currency he had no way of obtaining.

He checked the form one last time before signing it and handing it in, remembering just in time to leave off the "Dr." He supposed he had just committed perjury…though if you considered that in asking for his birthdate, what they really wanted was his age, the phone number was the only piece of information that was actually false.

"We're ready for you, Mr Basher," the receptionist said, far too soon for his liking.

He winced at the mispronunciation of his name, but didn't correct her as he followed her into the exam room. Absently, he reflected that he had heard it mangled far worse by alien tongues.

"Have a seat on the table; the doctor will be with you in a moment."

Bashir grimaced as he obeyed; he hated being on this side of a doctor's office. He had been afraid of doctors as a child, and he reflected wryly that becoming one himself hadn't done much to ease his discomfort when he was the patient.

"What's this about you needing a measles shot, young man?" the gray-haired doctor asked with a twinkle in his eye as he came into the room.

Bashir gave him his best disarming smile. "I found out I missed getting it as a child," he replied, thickening his British accent to match the doctor's and hide any "alien flavor."

"And was that the only one you missed?" the doctor questioned, one eyebrow raised. "It's usually given in conjunction with several others, you know."

"Yes…well…I'll check, and come back for the others later if I missed them; just the measles will be enough for today."

"As an adult, one at a time is probably wise, but you're more likely to be exposed to some of the other illnesses than measles; sure you don't want to start with them?"

A wry smile twitched at the corner of Bashir's mouth. "I'm sure," he said quietly. "The measles is the one I know I missed."

The doctor shrugged. "Suit yourself. You're not all that likely to come in contact with any of them — at least not here in England — so I don't suppose it makes much difference. I just have to do a quick exam first to make sure you're healthy enough for the shot; let's have that shirt off."

Bashir's stomach clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. _Relax; if you got all the way through Starfleet Medical without your enhancements being discovered, a twentieth-century doctor isn't going to find them._ As long as he didn't let the doctor draw any blood, he wouldn't notice anything to excite interest and possibly affect the timeline. And Tairvaul had brought them to a time before routine blood tests, so that was unlikely to be an issue.

Slowly he pulled off his shirt, wondering if there was some way to get back at Dax for this. Maybe he should steal a syringe, too, and use it the next time she needed an injection…

Even as he considered the idea, he knew that he never would.

The doctor's examination was primitively basic in Bashir's eyes, at the same time giving the illusion of thoroughness as he spent several minutes checking individually things Bashir could determine with a single scan.

"Well, looks like you're in good health, young man," the doctor said with a smile, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Blood pressure's a little on the high side, but nothing to be concerned over."

"It's been a tense couple of weeks," Bashir muttered. And sitting on the wrong side of a doctor's office, about to be jabbed with a needle while awaiting his chance to steal a vial of vaccine, wasn't helping.

"Well, try to relax and get some exercise," the doctor advised, taking a syringe from a supply cabinet and a bottle from his lab coat pocket.

 _Sure, after I save the world,_ Bashir thought half sarcastically, his eyes instantly fixing on the precious bottle. Suddenly he realized what he had thought and mentally paused; was that truly how arrogant he sounded to everyone? Was he so used to thinking longingly of what he _could_ do if he didn't have to hide his enhancements that he had forgotten some things were beyond even his power?

Dax had once told him his arrogance lay in believing that no cure existed if _he_ couldn't find it…but she had said that with no knowledge of his enhancements. As of yet, he had come the closest of anyone to finding a cure for the Quickening. The experience had humbled him to the point of realizing he couldn't cure everything; he still believed if anyone could find a cure, he could.

But now wasn't the time to consider it; he had a job to do. He never took his eyes off the medicine bottle as the doctor drew some of the vaccine into the syringe, then capped the bottle and dropped it in his pocket. _Great. I'm a doctor, not a pickpocket!_

But he was also a surgeon, with a touch delicate enough to remove an embedded object without further damaging any of the surrounding tissues… If he thought of it like that, he could probably do it without the doctor ever noticing.

"You should only feel a sting for a moment," the doctor told him, approaching with the syringe.

Bashir forced himself to watch; fine thing for a doctor to be squeamish. And he wouldn't have a problem with giving himself an injection, even with an old-fashioned needle. But the idea of letting this primitive doctor do it…

He winced as the needle slipped in, thinking grimly that he could teach this doctor a thing or two. He might never have used a syringe to give an injection himself, but he could insert IV ports so deftly that the patient seldom felt anything — and those that claimed they did, he had to wonder if they were merely imagining the pain they expected.

"There we go," the doctor said, taping a square of gauze over the injection site. "That might be a little red and swollen and sore for a few days, and you may run a low fever. You should seek medical attention if the symptoms are more than moderate, or last longer than three days. And you be sure to come in for those other vaccines soon."

Bashir merely nodded as he pulled his shirt back on.

"Thank you," he said, sliding gratefully off the table and extending his hand.

Distracted by the handshake, the doctor never noticed Bashir's left hand dip quickly into his pocket. Afraid the bottle would make a noticeable lump in his own pocket — looser pants would have been better for this, he realized now — he merely held it lightly in a loose fist, letting his hand dangle naturally by his side.

He walked out of the room with studied nonchalance, his enhancements and years of practice hiding them enabling him to pull it off.

Dax looked questioningly at him as he emerged, and he winked, barely turning his hand in her direction. He glanced at the reception desk, wondering if he should try to get the form he had filled out, but as Dax got to her feet and joined him he quickly decided it wasn't worth the time and chances of being caught.

"Have a good day," the receptionist called after them as they left.

Dax kept pace at Bashir's side as he walked as briskly as he could without appearing unduly hurried. He took several sharp turns down random side streets, always heading in a direction away from that in which they had arrived, and at last slowed down slightly.

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Dax asked in a low voice.

"He will as soon as he puts his hand in his pocket."

Jadzia's eyes widened. "Julian! You _pickpocketed_ him?"

"You didn't give me much of a choice; he brought the bottle from another room. Anyway, here it is." He uncurled his fingers, and for a moment both of them simply stared at the plain brown bottle.

"The salvation of a world," Julian murmured, putting it secularly in his pocket. He winced and rubbed his arm. "That doctor doesn't know a thing about giving injections," he muttered.

Jadzia grinned unsympathetically. "Poor baby," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

Bashir turned toward her. "A kiss _would_ make me feel better…" he murmured.

Dax rolled her eyes, dodging his lips to give him a peck on the cheek. "There. Happy?"

"No," he grumbled.

 **Next chapter coming next week!**

 **A/N: I really have no idea how the healthcare system worked in ≈1980s England; I've read several things that indicated it was "free," and the rest is artistic license. And I suppose there could be free clinics however it worked in general. Barbie**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	8. To Save a Planet

**Chapter Seven: To Save a Planet**

"This should be far enough," Dax commented, looking around and finding no one in sight to witness their disappearance.

Bashir nodded and tapped the combadge fastened to the inside of his breast pocket. "Mission accomplished, Tairvaul; two to beam up."

Seconds later, Dax disappeared in a column of sparkling light, and Bashir grinned in the instant before he followed; Tairvaul had remembered that he preferred ladies first.

"How close can we get to the time when we left?" Bashir questioned anxiously as the three settled into their seats on the bridge.

"Within a day," Tairvaul answered, "though we have to travel back to our point of entry into this time first."

Bashir raised an eyebrow. "Really? How is that possible when you couldn't get closer than a decade coming back?"

"We don't belong in this time, Julian," Jadzia explained; "we're drawn back to our natural time, so the return trip is easier. Surely you must have known that; what good would coming back here have done if we might not return until ten years after the epidemic?"

Bashir shrugged. "I honestly didn't think of it at all until Tairvaul mentioned not expecting to come closer than ten years to his target date, and then I figured you and he must have worked it out, or you would have said something." He grinned at the expression on Dax's face. "I'm only 'arrogant' when it comes to medicine, Jadzia."

"Are you going to want to go to the space station when we get back, or straight to Idimion Twelve?" Tairvaul questioned.

"Deep Space Nine," Bashir and Dax said together.

Dax looked at him in surprise. "Really, Julian? I thought I was going to have to pull rank to keep you from heading off to Idimion Twelve first thing."

Bashir shook his head, pulling the bottle out of his pocket and looking at it soberly as he held it up. "This isn't nearly enough for Idimion Twelve, Dax. I don't know what kind of medical facilities they have down there; I need my lab on Deep Space Nine to adapt it to hypospray and synthesize enough to use on a wide scale. And then there's Seffie…she's _my_ patient, Dax, and if I get this vaccine to her soon there may still be time to save her. Besides, the station is really my first responsibility. I'd go back in time and prevent the plague from sweeping Idimion Twelve if I could; at least I can make sure it doesn't take hold in my territory." He glanced sideways at her. "And that's why you would have pulled rank, isn't it?"

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "I misjudged you, Julian; I'm sorry. I thought you just wanted to be a hero and save a planet."

"I do," Bashir said quietly. "But for the sake of saving it, not for the sake of being a hero."

 **oOo**

Bashir mentally braced himself as Tairvaul prepared to slingshot back, but this time found the pressure far less. What Jadzia had said about being drawn to one's own time was true, he realized; only his arm seemed to throb a little more.

But with the return to their own time, he felt all his responsibilities settling heavy on his shoulders once again. While in the past, he could almost joke about being a hero and saving a world; the reality of it had seemed far away and almost insubstantial. Removed from the timeline of Deep Space Nine, he had been able to spare a few minutes to flirt with Jadzia, knowing it would in no way affect how long it took them to get back.

Now the pressure of time was on him once again; the drive to perfect the vaccine before any more could fall victim. He found himself wishing that Tairvaul's ship had been equipped with a medical bay so he could return with a fully-developed cure instead of one partially-full bottle of primitive vaccine.

"When is it?" he demanded sharply.

"Stardate 55761.6," Tairvaul replied, consulting several readouts.

"Six hours after we left," Bashir figured instantly.

Tairvaul took a moment before nodding confirmation, glancing at Bashir as if a little surprised at his lightning arithmetic. "Yes. We'll be docking in half an hour."

Sisko's voice when he answered Tairvaul's hail sounded relieved to have them back, even more so when they confirmed that their mission had been successful and that to the best of their knowledge they had done nothing to alter the timeline.

"I'm not taking any chances," Bashir said grimly as Tairvaul docked the _Imagination_. "I want all three of us decontaminated the instant we leave this ship. Dax and I could have been exposed to anything in that clinic, and Tairvaul could have picked it up from us."

Neither of them questioned his tone; Tairvaul especially had no wish to risk being the start of a second epidemic.

 **oOo**

"You can report to Sisko, Dax; I have to get back to the infirmary."

Dax merely nodded, knowing nothing short of a medical emergency or a direct order from the captain could have stopped him.

He found Seffie little changed, giving him hope that if he could give her the vaccine without much more delay, it might still be in time to do some good.

With only a few brief words to the girl's parents, he disappeared into the lab to synthesize and refine the vaccine.

It had been created to be effective against three distinct illnesses; now he separated out the one he was interested in. When he was satisfied, he began synthesizing large amounts of the finished product and set to work creating a specially concentrated dose for Seffie.

Six hours after his arrival on the station, he entered Seffie's room with a hypospray in hand.

"I don't know if this will be effective so long after the onset of the disease," he warned quietly.

"How…long until we know?" Emory whispered, watching as Bashir administered the medication.

"Her body should begin making antibodies within an hour," Bashir answered, absently rubbing his own itching injection site. "I can test her blood for that, but it might be another day or two before her symptoms start to improve." He took out another vial and fit it into the hypospray. "Each of you needs a dose of this," he said quietly; "it's a wonder you haven't caught it already."

He gave the injections quickly, noting with some satisfaction that neither of them even winced.

He glanced one more time at the monitors before leaving the room. "Nurse, get me all the Terran medical staff; they get the first doses of vaccine."

"Very good, sir."

"Bashir to Sisko."

"Sisko here."

"I'm beginning vaccination of all Terrans and half Terrans on board the station, beginning with my medical staff, then senior officers, then children and their families; after that any other Terrans on board."

"I'll make a stationwide announcement and have someone start organizing that," Sisko agreed instantly. "How's the girl doing?"

"Too soon to tell yet. Bashir out."

Bashir didn't insist on giving all the vaccinations personally, overseeing his staff as they handled the steady stream of Terrans throughout the day. When at last all the Earth humans on board had been inoculated, Bashir sought Sisko out in Ops.

The captain looked up, knowing immediately what he had come for. "It would be inhumane to refuse to let you go this time, Julian," he admitted. "I'll let Worf take you in the _Defiant_ ; you can use it as an orbiting clinic if you need to."

Bashir relaxed. "Thank you, sir. And I'd like to transfer Seffie to the _Defiant_ sickbay so I can continue to monitor her condition."

Sisko sighed. "I suppose that's your call. Just don't try to do everything yourself, Julian. And get some sleep before you leave."

Bashir shook his head. "All due respect, sir, I slept a little on the way back in the _Imagination_ ; I'm good for a while."

Sisko looked at him and knew it was the truth this time; he wasn't merely pushing himself. "I suppose you want to borrow Dax again?"

Bashir grinned. "If you can spare her, sir."

"I'll have her meet you on board," Sisko promised; Dax was currently off duty in her quarters.

"Thank you, sir. With your permission, I'll go down to get Seffie ready."

Sisko nodded. "Dismissed, Doctor."

 **oOo**

"Everything's on board," Bashir announced, joining Dax and Worf on the bridge of the _Defiant_.

Dax grinned at him. "Then come on, hero. Let's go save a planet."

 **Epilogue coming next week!**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _Captain's log, stardate 55763.3_

 _The_ Defiant _has returned from its medical relief mission as an orbiting clinic around Idimion Twelve. The epidemic has been halted, with no new victims reported since the remaining Terrans were vaccinated, but despite having nearly singlehandedly saved a planet, Dr Bashir did not return as high-spirited as I had expected. Many of those who were already sick were too far gone to be helped by the vaccine; I think he doesn't feel fully successful unless he can save everybody._

 _Seffie was one of the ones who recovered, however, which helped his mood, as she was more_ _ **his**_ _patient than any of the others._

 _With all the publicity surrounding the Idimion Twelve epidemic, it was inevitable that the Department of Temporal Investigations found out how Dr Bashir obtained the vaccine. They did not question him too closely, however. He blames the epidemic at least partly on them, for not questioning whether Tairvaul had been in contact with any contagious diseases, and few care to argue with Julian Bashir when he's angry — particularly when they know he's right._

 _So now things can get back to normal here on the station — if there can be said to be any such thing._

The End

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


End file.
